


Manicure

by Telesilla



Series: I've a Feeling It's Time to Try [5]
Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Baseball, Domestic, Future Fic, M/M, San Francisco Giants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"What am I...what the heck is that smell?" The kids and Tim are clustered around the coffee table. "Are you guys painting or something?"</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manicure

**Author's Note:**

> This is future fic--I figure maybe Christmas of 2015 or 2016. It came about because of a conversation about how the Poseys are very into traditional gendering when it comes to the twins. At some point, I thought about how Tim might find that a little odd.

Buster is normally up long before Tim, but he's totally exhausted after the flight from Atlanta. It was easier this time than in the past; at least Buster had Tim to help him with the kids, but while everyone else fell asleep about an hour in, Buster was never able to quite drop off. It didn't help that, in order to get a non-stop from Atlanta to San Francisco, they left at a ridiculous hour and got in, as Tim put it, stupid late.

The kids hardly woke up as Tim and Buster got them all tucked in, but Tim was wide awake and wanted to have sex in their own bed. Buster could hardly blame him. The guest bed at his folks place is total crap. Buster swears next time he visits, he's going to order a new mattress and just have it delivered so his mom can't say, "oh honey, you don't have to."

And it's not like Buster could possibly complain about having sex with Tim. When they're at his folks place or visiting Chris up in Seattle, they're always careful and really quick about it. They hardly ever fuck either; it's just easier to blow each other or stick to hand jobs instead of getting lube all over the sheets. Last night they'd kissed for what felt like forever and then Tim had rolled Buster over, pulled him up on his knees, and then fucked him long and slow and sweet. Maybe Buster had to bury his face in the pillow when it got really good so his yelling didn't wake the kids up, but otherwise, it was just about perfect. 

Even with all that, it still comes as a shock when Buster rolls over and stares blearily at the clock--ten-thirty in the morning? Seriously? He's still tired and actually thinks about going back to sleep. But he smells coffee and something bready, and Tim's side of the bed is cool.

When Buster finally makes it out of the bathroom, he wanders down the hall, blinking and scratching his stomach. He can hear giggling and Tim's laughter and he pauses before going out into the living room. All the worrying he'd done about how Tim would deal with the kids and all Buster's determination not to force Tim into any kind of parenthood whatsoever, turned out to be totally irrelevant. Tim loves the kids and they love him. If they were around full time, it might be a problem, but as it is, things have worked out pretty well.

"Oh hey," Tim says. "I thought you were going to sleep all day."

"Nah," Buster says. 

Before he can say any more, Addy yells, "Daddy, come see!"

"Indoor voices," Buster says. It'll probably be about as effective as it always is, which is to say, not at all, but he feels like he should make the effort.

"Come see!" Lee echoes his sister, although he turns it down a notch. 

"What am I...what the heck is that smell?" The kids and Tim are clustered around the coffee table. "Are you guys painting or something?"

"Kind of," Tim says, holding up his hand. 

Buster blinks. Tim's fingernails are...pink and glittery?

"Where'd you get nail polish?"

"Mommy got it for Addy," Lee says. "Look!" He holds up his hand. "Purple!"

"Wait," Buster says with a frown. "You're painting Lee's nails?"

"It's pretty," Addy says.

"Yeah, and it's sparkly," Lee says. "Purple's my favorite color."

That much, at least, Buster knows. But still....

"Tim?"

"What? Addy wanted to do hers and Lee liked the purple and why not? It comes off and, so far, God only knows how, we haven't gotten any on the floor."

"Tim," Buster says again. "You can't paint..."

Tim's up off the floor in a hurry. Behind him Lee and Addy are looking at each other with wary expressions.

"It's cool," Tim says. "Addy, pick a color for your other hand while I talk to your dad."

"Lee's a boy," Buster says once Tim's steered him into the kitchen. 

"And?" Tim says. He pours a cup of coffee and hands it to Buster. "We didn't exactly hold him down or anything."

"But...Tim," Buster says. He can't think of how to explain it, so all he can do is repeat himself. "Lee's a boy."

"And what, painting his nails is gonna make his dick fall off?"

"Tim! C'mon."

"No," Tim says firmly. "If Lee wants to have purple glittery nails for a morning or, fuck it, for the rest of his life, why not?" When Buster doesn't say anything, Tim sighs. "You're afraid it's gonna make him gay or something? Like maybe he's gonna roll over and let someone fuck him?"

Buster's face goes hot. "No," he says. "That's not what I...." His voice trails off. When Tim puts it that way it sounds kind of stupid. "The other kids," he begins.

"What other kids? You don't hear Addy making fun of him, do you?" When Buster doesn't say anything, Tim sighs. "I'm sorry. It just seems so weird to me, but I'm not a parent."

Buster takes a deep breath and thinks about the way everyone was laughing when he came into the room. He thinks about Tim getting up and making breakfast--the plates with leftover pancakes are still on the kitchen table--and playing with the kids so Buster could sleep. He thinks about all the presents Tim keeps adding to the pile under the big tacky Christmas tree in the corner. "No," he says. "You're wrong. You are a parent. Maybe a better one than...."

"Don't start that. Look, I get it, or at least a little. You guys--you and Cainer and BCraw and now Bum--all your girls all wear pink or frilly orange and black stuff. It's just what you do with girls, I guess."

"Well yeah," Buster says, but it doesn't seem as obvious as it used to be. 

"Did your mom try to do that with Sam? Because it doesn't seem to have stuck."

"She tried," Buster says with a smile. "Sam hated it. She actually threw her Easter dress on the trash fire one year."

"But, at a guess, everyone finally just said something about her growing up with boys and let her keep a baseball under her pillow or whatever." He gives Buster a long look. "What if Jack had wanted to, I don't know, take ballet or something?"

"I can't even imagine it."

"But what if Lee does?" 

Buster takes a deep breath. "Then...then we let him. Right?"

"Buster, he's your kid. Yours and Kristen's. If he wants to do something, he's gonna do it; both of you are pretty fucking stubborn." Tim shakes his head. "No. Like I said, I'm sorry. I'm pushing you into something you're not comfortable with."

"Maybe that's not a bad thing. I wouldn't be with you if I hadn't pushed myself a little."

Before Tim can say anything, Buster heads back into the living room. Lee looks up at him, his eyes big. "Is it okay, Daddy?"

"Well," Buster says as he sits down on the floor. "It's not fair, is it? Everyone but me has colored nails."

"We can't do _yours_ , Daddy," Addy says. Just as Buster's wondering if his disapproval was even more obvious than he thought, she continues. "There's pink and purple and silver and red but no orange! You have to have orange."

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, that's a problem." He glances up at Tim, who's standing off to one side, smiling at him. "How about everyone gets dressed and we walk up to the Rite-Aid. I bet they have orange, even though it's not Halloween."

"In this town?" Tim says with a grin. "They better."

* * *

"Well that was stupid," Tim says that night as they settle into bed. "Maybe we can take the kids out to breakfast and then stop by the Rite-Aid again and get some polish remover." Because, of course, it turns out that while Addy's nail polish kit has polish and glitter and stickers, it doesn't have any polish remover.

"Yeah," Buster says, looking down at his orange painted nails a little ruefully. 

"I've never told you this," Tim says. "But when you wear those nail stickers? I think it's kind of hot." He ducks his head a little. "I dunno why. Must be the way I have a thing for your hands."

Buster reaches up and puts his hand on Tim's chest. "Yeah?" he says, flexing his fingers a little.

"Yeah."

"I think Addy's going to want to take that bottle of orange home with her since it was such a big hit." Buster's putting it mildly; except for Buster himself, everyone has orange toenails. Buster's are purple and glittery, which comes as a shock every time he looks at his feet. "So," he adds. "When we get the remover, maybe we can get another bottle."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Buster says. "Well maybe? I mean, you think it's hot and anyway, why keep buying the stickers?"

Later, after he's jerked Tim off slowly while Tim watched his hands in total fascination, Buster rests his head on Tim's shoulder.

"Krukow's son," he says quietly. "Is a dancer."

"Yeah," Tim says. "He is."

_-end-_


End file.
